Precht raised his head, looking at Tenrou Island engulfed in the flames of battle, its former peace long gone.
A trace of deep nostalgia flashed in his single eye as he whispered.
"Back when I chose to leave the guild to seek the depth of magic, I specifically selected you as the third Guild Master."
"Because I thought your philosophy closely resembled Mavis's; perhaps it was even more complete than hers. So I entrusted Fairy Tail to you with absolute confidence, hoping you would shape it into what Mavis always wanted to see."
"You have done quite well. You took over at forty, and now it has been nearly fifty years... You've almost built Fairy Tail into the complete form that Mavis originally envisioned."
Precht looked at Makarov again.
His eyes instantly turned dark, and his voice became extremely cold, rising in volume.
"But both Mavis and I were wrong from the very beginning—the magic of this kind of Light Guild is utterly weak!"
"It cannot protect anything... People remain so fragile. Only the magic from the abyss can make one truly powerful!"
"That is why I must destroy Fairy Tail—it was never the guild of our ideals to begin with!"
Makarov had already wiped away his tears, saying solemnly, "Anyone who threatens my guild—even you—I will eliminate them."
Precht curled his lips in a cold smile. "I taught you all your Magic, Makarov."
Makarov remained silent as countless shining beams gathered around him like a meteor shower, mercilessly raining down upon Precht.
Precht didn't dodge or avoid them.
Eerie purple light flickered around him as the dense attacks fell, exploding into thick smoke.
Just as Makarov thought he had succeeded, he suddenly noticed three dark purple magic circles materializing around him out of nowhere.
"Amaterasu: Formula Twenty-Eight."
Precht stood unmoved in the thick smoke, completely unharmed as he raised both hands and then slammed them together.
"The highest-level destruction magic circle!"
Makarov gasped in shock, quickly shrinking his body to evade.
But the Amaterasu: Formula Twenty-Eight seemed to track him as the three magic circles converged around him, unleashing astonishing Magic Power.
"Gah!"
Makarov cried out in pain as he was directly hit, tumbling heavily to the ground.
Gritting through the pain, Makarov quickly stood up because he saw Precht rapidly closing in on him.
He raised his hand, and the light beside him transformed into a roaring thunderbolt, crashing down toward Precht's head.
"Shadow of Eternal Darkness."
Precht raised his hands overhead, conjuring a dark magic circle.
Pure darkness flowed from the array, instantly devouring the raging thunder descending from the sky like an impenetrable barrier.
Seeing this, Makarov transformed his body into pure light, swiftly maneuvering around Precht.
The scattered golden light fragments turned into luminous swords, densely thrusting toward his former master.
Precht snorted coldly, releasing white, dark-attribute chains from his palms.
With a swing of his arms, he shattered the incoming luminous swords.
The chains then coiled around the incredibly fast-moving Makarov with the lethal precision of a python.
Makarov's neck tightened as the chains constricting him flung him high into the air.
His expression showed extreme agony, yet he couldn't even make a sound.
Precht's gaze was utterly cold as he watched Makarov suspended in the air.
Layers of magic circles condensed in his hands, and he spoke in a deep, booming voice:
"Fall into hell, Makarov!"
"Amaterasu: Formula One Hundred!"
Seven layers of dark Amaterasu-style magic circles enveloped the defenseless Makarov.
Makarov's eyes sharpened as he urgently activated his magic power, summoning his strongest defensive magic.
"Three Pillar Gods."
Three massive pillars of light encased Makarov, but they were easily devoured by the apocalyptic explosion generated by Amaterasu: Formula One Hundred.
As the enormous explosion gradually subsided, Makarov's body crashed to the ground.
His entire form was battered and torn, his breathing ragged and chaotic.
Even with his timely defensive magic, Makarov was still severely injured.
Gazing at his senior, whose magic power had grown exponentially stronger than before, he felt profound sorrow.
Precht looked at the disheveled Makarov and spoke coldly.
"We are both old men, yet the path you've chosen is fragile beyond compare. The depths of the dark arts have made me stronger than ever. Do you still not understand, Makarov?"
"Fairy Tail is nothing but a failure."
Makarov straightened his posture, pulling open his collar to reveal a necklace with a Magic Crystal hanging from it.
Disregarding Precht's words, he laughed heartily. "I may be old, but that doesn't mean the path I believe in is fragile."
"See this? This defensive Magic Crystal was prepared for me by my children. The guild built by those kids is the most perfect!"
Precht's eyes turned icy, and he was about to say something.
But just then, a light rain began to fall from the sky, and from behind Precht, Bluenote Stinger slowly approached him.
Precht narrowed his eyes at Bluenote, around whom the rain seemed to fall particularly heavily, and asked.
"Bluenote, what do you think you're doing?"
"Leave him to me, Guild Master."
Bluenote wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, revealing a twisted, excited expression as he said.
"I want to fly."
"You were just sent flying earlier," Precht retorted sarcastically before turning to walk toward the battleship, waving his hand dismissively.
"He is already powerless to fight back. Finish this quickly."
Bluenote cracked his neck and strode slowly toward Makarov.
Makarov struggled to his feet, watching Bluenote warily as magic circles began to manifest around the man once more.
Bluenote licked his lips, the rain around him intensifying.
With a wave of his hand, he unleashed a gravitational force that instantly blasted away the soil and trees in a straight line, charging directly at Makarov.
Makarov's eyes sharpened as he quickly crossed his arms in front of him, bracing to withstand the attack.
"Crash!"
In an instant, the repulsive super-gravity rushing toward Makarov was sliced apart like tofu, shattering into absolute nothingness.
Makarov looked up and, upon recognizing the newcomer, cried out joyfully, "Gildarts!"
"Master, leave this guy to us."
Gildarts stood protectively in front of Makarov, his gaze sharp as he faced the imposing Bluenote.
A faint white glow of crushing energy flickered dangerously in his hand.
Bluenote paused in surprise before curling his lips again.
"It seems you can fly too."
Precht, however, focused on one specific word in Gildarts's statement.
"us"?
Then, a youthful voice, entirely different from the earlier aura, suddenly echoed right in his ear.
"That's right, old man!"
Precht was startled.
Before he could react, a tremendous force slammed directly into the side of his face.
Like an ordinary person being trampled by an elephant, Precht only managed a muffled grunt before being sent flying by the sudden assault.
He crashed through countless trees and boulders in the distance.
Ankh shook his wrist, mocking Precht—who had been sneak-attacked and sent flying like a torn kite.
"Want to fly too, Second Master?"
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